Dominica is famous for its giant land frogs which deposit their eggs in foam hidden in hollows or cranies but not in water. They are found nowhere else. The French, in the early days of colonization, found them delicious. Early settlers, however, unable to find tadpoles in water, made the mistake of identifying them as toads rather than frogs. They were therefore called crapauds. Crapaud is pronounced CRAP-oh, or CWOP-oh, and this name does not immediately endear them to the visitors, so Dominicans learned to call them Mountain Chicken. The local residents rave about the frogs but only under the name Mountain Chicken, and the articles about the island emphasize the fact that they are only found here and how good they are. As a result most visitors expect or insist that the hotels have them on the menu.
The Crapaud is almost entirely edible and save for the head and entrails is served sautéed in butter, with just the slightest bit of garlic, because there is no fishy taste to conceal.
It is not served whole, however. The tale is told of the serving of one whole, sans head, to a lady guest in a hotel (other than ours). In this condition it looks like a beheaded little person with rather disproportionately large, muscular legs. The woman is said to have exploded from the table and run screaming from the dining room.
They are usually, therefore served as individual parts rather than the whole frog. The explanation to visitors of what they really are is often reserved for the next day’s denouement.
To my knowledge there are no frogs on any of the other islands. The French tried to introduce breeding stock to the adjacent French islands but that was never successful. Naturally, we brag about the crapaud to our visitors and guests.
As a result of our conditioning on the subject Margie and I were surprised and amused at an incident that occurred on Martinique during one of our down-island visits.
Going to Martinique from Dominica is much like country folk going to New York City. Martinique is a beautiful, bustling, very French, province of the mother country and is sheer delight, especially if one is fortunate enough to have wonderful friends there.
Our dearest friends in Martinique are Philippe and Loiza Lachesnez-Heude. Young, attractive, urbane, and members of the old landed families, he is Managing Director of the local operation of an international firm and she is Managing Director of their family owned insurance agency.
On this occasion we were dining at the Martinique Hotel; a government run training school for hotel employees in the low hills above Fort de France, the capitol. I noted that one of the offerings on the menu was frog legs.
“Philippe? Where do they get these frog legs; the United States?”
“No, Pete, they come from France.”
“I didn’t know they had frogs in France,” I replied, surprised.
“Oh, Pete,” Philippe answered with an amused grin, “France is full of frogs.”